


Where The Heart Is

by professor



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-11
Updated: 2013-01-11
Packaged: 2017-11-25 03:27:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/634626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/professor/pseuds/professor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Christmas, and Charles is sick, and alone. Until he's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where The Heart Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belladonna_izy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belladonna_izy/gifts).



> Written for the XMFC Holiday Exchange for Belladonna_izy who requested: angst, hurt/comfort, domestic, au, romance, happy ending, and "For this one night, Charles and Erik forget the issues that separate them."

Charles blows miserably into his already sodden tissue, and debated getting out of bed for more. Then he remembers he hasn’t made it to the store in days and that was the last box. 

Charles coughs pitifully, even though there’s no one around to hear.

_And whose fault is that?_ he berates himself. 

Their fight seems so _stupid_ now. Charles knows it isn’t -- knows that he and Erik have some very fundamental differences that need serious discussion to resolve (if they even can be, or should be whispers a traitorous little voice in his mind.) 

But he’s sick and feeling terrible and he just wishes his boyfriend -- hopefully, still and not _ex_ \-- was here to take care of him.

Charles fumbles for his phone and peers blearily at the screen. No messages ( _you knew there wouldn’t be_ ), but at least according to the time, he can take medicine again. 

He swallows the pills and waits for sleep to claim him as he’s hunched under his single thin blanket in his cold, dreary, lonely apartment.

*****

Charles wakes, warm and cosy, to the sound of a crackling fire. 

He smiles faintly and snuggles deeper into his blankets, before the thought intrudes --

_You don’t have a fireplace_

Charles’ eyes shoot open and he struggles up out of piles of blankets to see --

A tablet, propped up on his nightstand, displaying streaming video of a crackling fire. 

Charles frowns, and notices other odd things -- the pile of blankets on top of him, the new box of tissues next to the tablet, the considerably warmer ambient temperature in the room --

And the delicious smells, powerful enough to cut through his stuffed up nose, wafting in from the kitchen.

*****

“There’s soup if you feel up to it,” says a voice from the doorway. Charles looks and sees --

“Erik,” says Charles, faintly. “I --”

Erik must take that as affirmative, because he walks in, carrying a mug of soup, and helps Charles up into a sitting position and wraps Charles’ hands around the mug, carefully. 

“Drink up. It will help,” urges Erik. 

Charles drinks up, and does feel better, somewhat. The soup is delicious, warm and comforting and exactly what Charles wants right now. Erik probably made it himself.

Charles frowns at that thought. 

“Something wrong with the soup?” asks Erik, as he sits down on the bed.

“No, the soup is fine,” says Charles, as he takes another sip. “Delicious, in fact. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” says Erik. “Drink that, and there’s more if you’re still hungry. I can also make you some tea if you like.”

Charles can’t take anymore of this. “It’s just -- “ he blurts out, unsure where to begin.

“It’s just what?” asks Erik.

“I just don’t understand,” says Charles. “Why are you -- why would you come here? We haven’t -- we _fought_ \-- there’s still --” Charles doesn’t know why he’s arguing for Erik to _go away_ , not when Erik is taking care of him while he’s sick, but --

“We still need to talk,” says Erik, finally. “But I didn’t want you to be alone on Christmas.”

“It’s not even your holiday,” argues Charles weakly.

“No, but it’s yours, and you shouldn’t be alone,” says Erik. 

Charles has no further arguments, simply drinks the rest of his soup gratefully and lets the taste continue to warm him.

*****

Charles must have drifted back to sleep after drinking his soup, although he doesn’t recall -- but he’s waking up now, and the light slanting in the windows indicates several hours have passed.

Charles debates calling out for Erik. Is he even still here? Was he ever here, or was it just some delightful fever dream Charles was having. Charles sighs audibly and fumbles on the nightstand for his phone to check the time again.

“When was the last time you took medicine?” asks Erik from the doorway again, and the question of Erik’s reality or lack thereof is answered. Erik really is here, he really did come over to see Charles on Christmas even though they were fighting and Erik is Jewish so it’s not even his holiday and -- Charles is hit with everything, all at once, how angry he still is at Erik, how sad and lonely he is without Erik, how much he loves him, how much he hates him, up and down and push and pull. 

Mostly, though, Charles is _tired._ Charles has no defenses left, and no energy to put up a facade. He feels tears welling up in his eyes. “I don’t want to fight any more.” 

Charles feels Erik’s hand cup his cheek, Erik’s thumb softly stroking. “Shhhh. Take some medicine and get some rest. We’ll talk about it later.”

Charles nods and lets Erik give him medicine, and goes back to sleep.

*****

Charles wakes up again, feeling somewhat less like death warmed over. Somewhat. 

He also has an urgent need to use the bathroom. He wriggles his way out from under the covers and stumbles the few feet to the bathroom, holding the wall for support. 

When he’s done, he opens the door to see Erik frowning at him. “I could have helped you,” Erik scolds. 

Charles is about to snap a retort when he stops. No. No, speaking without thinking is what got him in this mess in the first place. 

“Next time,” says Charles, grudgingly, and Erik blinks at him, as though he’d been expecting Charles to put up a fight -- wait, that’s probably _exactly_ what it was. Charles resists the urge to peek.

He also allows Erik to help him back to bed, and tuck him in. There’s about a fifty-fifty chance Erik won’t be around the next time Charles is sick, since they are technically in a fight, on the verge of breaking up. Charles should savor this TLC from Erik while Erik’s here. 

After Charles is tucked in to Erik’s satisfaction, Erik gets a tray from the kitchen, loaded with more soup, tea, and orange juice, as well as more medicine.

Charles eyes the tray dubiously. “How many times are you planning to help me back and forth from the bathroom, Erik?”

“As many times as you need,” says Erik with that glint of determination in his eye that Charles finds equal parts endearing and frustrating. 

“Indeed,” says Charles wryly, picking up the glass of orange juice to start with. “Bottoms up.”

*****

After another nap, Charles is feeling well enough to sit up and play chess on Erik’s iPad, though Erik is beating him handily, a fact which Charles blames on his illness.

“I think you just don’t want to admit I’m simply a better player than you are,” teases Erik after he takes Charles’ other bishop.

Charles doesn’t dignify that remark with a reply. He studies the board -- he’s down but by no means out. 

Charles puts up a valiant defense, but in the end, Erik is victorious. Charles tries not to pout. Erik chuckles kindly at him, and starts to rub soothing circles on Charles’ back, and Charles lets his head fall back and melts into the touch.

Okay, if Erik is going to do nice things like that maybe Charles can find it in his heart to forgive Erik for trouncing him. 

Charles abruptly sobers up at that thought, and frowns. Erik stops rubbing, presumably from feeling Charles tense up. 

“What’s wrong, Charles?” asks Erik quietly. 

Charles sighs. “I was just thinking that since you were rubbing my back like that, I could find it in my heart to forgive you for the chess game. And that brought up --”

“Our fight,” Erik finishes grimly, and then falls silent. 

The silence between them stretches out and soon becomes awkward. Any minute Erik will make an excuse and leave. But Charles doesn’t want him to go. 

Right at this moment, Charles wants Erik to stay, more than anything he’s ever wanted before in his life. 

Charles opens his mouth. Closes it again. Licks his lips and says -- “I’m sorry. Please don’t leave.”

“Charles?” asks Erik, and there is a world of questions contained in that one word. 

Charles sighs again. “I don’t want you to go. I don’t want to fight any more. I just want you to stay and I want us to be happy.” 

Erik is silent for a few moments more. “I want that too. But our problems won’t just go away if we ignore them. We have some serious issues to work out between us.”

“But you’ll try?” asks Charles quietly. 

“But I’ll try. As long as you do, too,” promises Erik.

There’s a sensation of something unclenching in Charles’ gut, something he didn’t even realize was tense until it loosened.

Charles closes his eyes and murmurs “Thank you.” He takes a breath. “I’ll try too.”

Erik leans forward and kisses his forehead, and in that moment, Charles knows: they may have a lot to overcome between them, but eventually, everything will be okay.


End file.
